The Sleeping Prince - Melinda Salisbury Page 0,104

was changing Tregellan, making people superstitious and cruel… He won’t stop, and if he gets a tight grip on things, then … it will only get worse. Besides, he killed my brother. And my friends. And almost me. It’s right that I try to return the favour.”

“I wanted to do something from the start. That’s why I was sent to Almwyk. I was going mad cooped up in the temple. Sending me to wait for Twylla was supposed to keep me occupied and out of reach.” He grins.

“Why did she tell me she was called Dimia?” I ask.

Silas grows quiet. “That’s her story to tell.”

“But you know?”

He nods slowly. “I do. And I’ll talk to you about it afterwards, if you want me to.”

I don’t like the sound of that, but I know better than to question him. “Ask no questions and I’ll be told no lies?” I say.

“You’ll be told no lies even if you do ask. But speak to her first.”

We both fall silent, listening to the rhythmic drips of water falling further along the passage.

“The apothecary, the monk and the living Goddess went to war,” I say finally. “We sound like the start of a joke.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed. “I want…” he begins, then shakes his head. “Us,” he says. “I don’t know how to do this. But I want it. I’m sure of that.” His face darkens, his words coming fast and earnest. “The second I saw you on the ground, I knew for certain it could only go one way for me, after that.” He raises his left hand, trembling again, and strokes my cheek.

This time I do lean into it. “We don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” I say, then press one light kiss on to his palm. “It’s been a long day. We should rest.”

I hear the words, sensible, practical, coming from my mouth and want to bite them back. I don’t want to rest. I want to spend all night exploring this, whatever it is. But I know it’s a bad idea. Right now we need to think about the Sleeping Prince, and my mother, and whatever it is that Twylla’s mother wants from her, and how we all fit into it. I need to find out why Twylla lied to me.

And I need to be sure of him. That he won’t push me away again.

“There will be time,” I say, hoping I’m right.

His eyes search mine, worry pulling the corners of them tight. Then, slowly, he leans forward and kisses my cheek, the touch of his lips so hot I half think I’ll be branded by them. “Goodnight, Errin Vastel.” He is so close his breath kisses my mouth. “But … I’ve made my choice. And it’s you. Us, if you want it.”

I want so much to sink my fingers into his hair, to pull his face to mine. To touch, to taste. But I step away from him. “Goodnight, Silas Kolby. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I can feel him watching me as I walk back. “No,” he calls as I go to pull one of the curtains. “Next one. I’m four away. If you change your mind.”

I smile at him and enter my room.

Though I wasn’t gone long, when I return, Twylla’s in her bed, seemingly still fully dressed, save her boots, the nightgown ignored. She has the covers piled over her, and she’s facing the wall, the torches in their sconces still lit. I light the candle from one of them then extinguish them.

“I’m not asleep,” she says, startling me. She turns over and props herself up on an elbow.

“All right,” I say, sitting on my bed and pulling one of the blankets over my shoulders.

“I’m sorry. It must have seemed so rude, to have walked away from you in the Great Hall. I just … I have a lot to tell you, it seems. I suppose we should begin with why I lied?” she says, and I nod. “It’s a long story. But to begin, you should know that Dimia was the name of the girl the Bringer used to wake the Sleeping Prince.”

I inhale sharply. So that’s why it sounded familiar. I remember then, the men who came through Almwyk asking if we’d seen a girl and a young man. She was Dimia, with the Bringer.

Twylla continues. “He took her from the castle in Lormere. She was a servant there. I heard the Bringer when he came for her. I